


Sing a Song of Sixpence

by Anithene



Category: Bleach
Genre: Complete, Family, Gen, Gen Fic, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-18 04:49:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anithene/pseuds/Anithene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>  From the moment Rukia is admitted to the Kuchiki household, she knows what is and isn't expected of her. Takes place from Rukia's adoption until after the SS arc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sing a Song of Sixpence

_Don’t slouch. Speak only when spoken to. Address your seniors with their proper titles. Interact with the servants only when needed. Never arrive late for meals. Keep a good appearance at all times. Do not shame the family name._

_And, most importantly, never disturb Lord Byakuya unless he requests your presence._

Rukia doesn’t question any of these orders, or the authority her new brother has over her. Lord Byakuya is an enigmatic and terrifying figure to her, both for his secrecy and his discreetness. The rare times they meet are tense ones. He never speaks to her besides small talk, and each word he says is forced, meaningless. Rukia remains polite, providing the same answers each time.

They never look at each other. Not even on accident.

At first, Rukia is convinced this is merely because of pain on his part; she has been told that she bears a resemblance to his late wife. She would imagine that looking at a replica of one’s dead love would be painful.

That theory is quickly disproven. He doesn’t even glance at her for the next three years.

Her view on him changes; she no longer thinks of his cold, stoic demeanor as a front, but as the man. Rukia convinces herself that if she so much as blinks the wrong way, he’d lop her head off and bury the segmented remains of her body in the gardens. He allows nothing but perfection, both for himself and those around him. That’s the kind of man she tells herself Byakuya Kuchiki is.

After that, every meeting with him is full of terror, the likes of which Rukia has never known, but she can’t let him see it. She keeps her head down and her voice quiet. She does what she is told. Whether he approves or disapproves of this is unknown to her.

They continue this way for the next thirty years, two mimes in a dance, never touching, never speaking.

________________________________________________  
    


Utter disappointment. Shame. Incomprehension. Guilt.

Why wasn’t she accepted into a seated position? She trained _so hard._  Rukia trained harder than anyone, harder than she had ever trained for something in her life. Rukia knows she has the skill, the experience, the smarts, so why wasn’t she put into a seated position in Squad 13?

What’s more, she’s petrified of how her brother will take the news.

As Rukia returns to the Kuchiki manor, still in uniform, weary and sore from the day’s events, she thinks of any possible way to explain herself. Preferably, in a way that won’t get her killed. Byakuya has never shown to have any sort of temper –nor any emotion at all – but Rukia is certain he has one, somewhere, burning hot and ready to be released. All men like him do. It’s only a matter of when it will erupt.

Although it’s very late, Byakuya has instructed her to meet him as soon as the exams were over.  She finds him in the shrine room, back to her, dark hair loose. Two candles blaze by his side, but the room is otherwise dark.

She kneels before the open door and bows so low her forehead touches the veranda.

His voice is, as always, icy quiet when he asks, “how did the exams go?”

Rukia closes her eyes, long lashes brushing her cheeks. She takes a deep breath and tries to keep her voice as serene as possible, though she trembles all over.

“My greatest apologies, elder brother. I was not put in a seated position.”

The girl winces and prepares herself for his reaction. She steels herself for angry words, a disapproving stare, a surge in enormous spiritual energy. It would take more effort for him to blink than to kill her. Indeed, Rukia knows well his reputation as a Captain despite her never seeing him in battle.

The candles flicker.

“How unfortunate. You may leave.”

Rukia blinks, mouth parting. She lifts her head to see that his back is still to her. Shaking, she bows again, and closes the door.

She blames his mercy on luck. All through the night, Rukia turns in bed, envisioning him killing her and burying her body in the gardens.  
  
_______________________________________

 Kaien Shiba is like no man she’s ever met.

Although he is also from a noble house, he remains modest and friendly, even to his subordinates. He doesn’t throw around his heritage like a badge or uses it to get his way. He’s cocky without being arrogant. Kaien possesses a boyish charm that captures everyone around him, and a light of kindness which shines through his smiles.

Rukia is quickly smitten. She knows he’s married, but her feelings are honorable. Where she respects Kaien as a comrade and a friend, she looks to Miyako as an idol. Rukia admires her grace and beauty, her strength in battle, her intelligence. She’s never felt this way toward anyone.

Around them, she can forget the Kuchiki name and all its burdens.

Rukia laughs louder, talks more openly, lets herself feel, act and think how she wishes while with Kaien. He laughs and smiles with her. He teases her for her shortness and obsession for Chappy the rabbit. After long afternoons of training, Kaien ruffles her hair and commends her, his advice well deserved, but never cruel.

Rukia teaches him how to draw. Kaien teaches her how to whistle.

She dreads leaving the division each night to return to the manor. She makes excuses to stay longer, knows Kaien is aware of her intentions. Sometimes, he indulges her and lets her stay an extra hour or two. Other times, he persuades her to return, saying Byakuya will be worried.

When he says that, Rukia scoffs. She tells him a man like Byakuya Kuchiki only worries about completing paperwork on time. His knowing grin annoys her, and he says she’ll understand him better someday.

Rukia thinks that day will never come. She returns to the manor and Byakuya’s silence, averting her eyes, never smiling.

 __________________________________________

Kaien is the first one to see Sode No Shirayuki’s release.

The first time she demonstrates it to him, she isn’t nervous. Whereas many others intimidate her, Rukia is thrilled to show her new-found power to her Lieutenant. There is no one else in the world she thinks more deserving – he had helped her achieve Shikai, after all. He deserves to see his hard work bear results. Rukia can see the pride and awe in his gaze as he watches her.

He lets loose a long, slow whistle when she is finished. Rukia is out of breath and sweaty, but she manages a smile. He claps her on the back, giving her a container of water. While she drinks, Kaien rambles on about how remarkable it is, that she’s achieved Shikai so early. He praises her for her effort and the beauty of her blade.

Despite herself, Rukia flushes, tries to hide it. Kaien chuckles and ruffles her hair in that familiar way. They sit on the summer grass, the heat quelled only marginally by the shade. It’s in the middle of summer, the hottest part of the year. Captain Ukitake is bedridden from the heat. As such, Rukia sees Kaien less often.

“I could help you practice the moves, if you want.”

Rukia looks to him, surprised. His face is completely serious, the spiked ends of his dark hair blowing in the breeze.

She clutches the bamboo container of water and looks to her feet.

“That isn’t necessary, Lieutenant. You’ve helped more than enough. I couldn’t ask you to do more, considering your busy duty—“

Kaien thumps her hard between the shoulder blades, and water splashes onto her feet.

“Don’t be ridiculous! I can spare some time here or there to help you, busy or not. The paperwork will always be there. I’d love to teach you more, Rukia. That’s one fine Zanpakuto you have. You’ll be a Lieutenant in no time, I’m sure!”

Rukia smiles tentatively. “I hope so. I’m sure my brother is displeased that I haven’t made it to a seated officer yet,” she giggles a little, “when I told him I wasn’t accepted into a seat, I was sure he would kill me!”

Kaien laughs, shaking his head. “Come on, now. He wouldn’t kill you, Rukia.”

She looks at him, one eyebrow raised. “You sure? I’m afraid to _blink_ at him the wrong way. I’m certain he has an awful temper hidden behind that inexpressive face of his.”

Kaien rubs his chin. “Well, he _did_ have a temper when he was younger; but not enough of one to kill someone over. He’s a difficult man to understand, I’ll give you that, but you’re the last person he would ever kill, Rukia, no matter what you’ve done.”

The girl sighs and turns the flask around in her hands. _So like Kaien, seeing the good in everyone, whoever they are._

He glances at the sky, one hand held before his eyes. “We’d better head back. I’m sure Kiyone and Sentaro are causing a ruckus again. I swear, if I catch them drunk while on duty again, I just might kill them!”

Rukia laughs, and he helps her to her feet. Kaien rests his hand on the small of her back, and his face softens. Rukia feels herself blushing again at the sincerity.

“Really, Rukia. You’ve done an excellent job. I’m proud of you, squirt.”

After that, Rukia smiles, and continues to smile even after she goes home.

 ___________________________________________________

One night, when the moon is full and the birds are quiet, Rukia wakes, screaming.

She clutches the blankets, trembling, pale. Sweat rolls down one cheek, fine strands of hair sticking to her jaw and nape. She jumps when a servant knocks on her door, asking if she needs anything. Rukia tells her to leave.

She stumbles upright to splash water on her face from the basin beside her futon. The nights have been humid, so she requested a bowl of water to cool herself with. The heat was an excellent excuse, and neither the servants nor her brother questioned it.

The cold water doesn’t erase the images from her mind. Each time she closes her eyes, Rukia sees his face, colorless, the sockets where his eyes were wide and endlessly black. She sees the blood on her hands, his dying words repeating over and over in her ears.

It’s been one month since Kaien Shiba’s death. Rather, one month since she murdered him.

Rukia swallows thickly and opens the door leading outside. The moon casts shimmering, pale light onto the Kuchiki gardens. It sweeps into her room, erasing all shadows. Slowly, the images of that terrible night fade from Rukia’s mind. She peers up at the full moon and wishes, somehow, that she could go back and undo her actions. She knows she cannot, but wishes anyway.

The young Shinigami pulls the sleeping yukata closer about her. Byakuya attended his funeral in her place, but hasn’t said a word of Kaien’s death. When she returned to the manor covered in blood, it was the first time she’d ever seen an expression on his face; worry. Rukia tells herself it was worry for her Lieutenant and Captain, not her well-being.

She shuts the screen door and slips back into bed, kicking the blankets to her feet. Rukia takes a deep breath, closing her eyes. Kaien’s face appears in her mind’s eye, smiling, Miyako beside him. His laughter is silent. Rukia tries to recapture it, but cannot. Like each time she remembers him, Rukia is fearful that, slowly, all memory of Kaien Shiba will fade. His smile, his laugh, his voice. Each day, she feels just a little more of him disappear.

Rukia scrubs her eyes with the flat of her palms. Tomorrow, she’ll wake up to a Kaien-less day, without his voice or kind words, his smile reassuring her that somehow, everything will be alright. But it won’t be, not anymore. Things are back to how they were; silent, tense, repressing.

Now, she hates the silence, because when it’s quiet, her guilt is overwhelming. She’s forced to live with it, day in and day out, play the role of perfect, obedient sister, responsible Shinigami. She dances however they want her to, strings tied to her hands and feet, a blindfold over her eyes. Rukia feels like a doll, without thought or feeling.

Her eyes close, and Rukia sleeps, dreamless.

 ________________________________________________

While on a routine mission to the Living World, Rukia gets her first taste of human poetry.

In a park, a child and her father sit on a bench. The girl’s hair is dark and pulled into twin braids. Her cheeks are round and rosy, full of health. Her dress is yellow and her shoes are pink. She swings her tiny legs back and forth, and her head is bent toward the open book in her father’s hands.

The father is tall and lank, and Rukia finds it amusing that he has to push his glasses up every now and then to read. His hands are bony and there are wrinkles around his mouth and eyes. Rukia can sometimes forget that humans age so much faster than Shinigami. Soon, both this girl and her father will be dead.

She tilts her head, coming closer to the two. She stands behind them, listening carefully as the man speaks.  
 

_“Sing a song of sixpence,_

_A pocket full of rye._

_Four and twenty blackbirds,_

_Baked in a pie._  
 

_When the pie was opened,_

_The birds began to sing;_

_Wasn't that a dainty dish,_

_To set before the king?_

_The king was in his counting house,_

_Counting out his money;_

_The queen was in the parlour,_

_Eating bread and honey._

_The maid was in the garden,_

_Hanging out the clothes;_

_When down came a blackbird_

_And pecked off her nose."_

Rukia’s dark brows furrow. To her, the strange poem makes no sense, and she can’t imagine why anyone would read it to a child. A bird pecking off noses seems to be a morbid subject to her. She looks to the girl, who remains smiling, and she giggles. 

“Why would he put blackbirds in a pie, daddy?”

The man chuckles and turns the page. One hand reaches over to ruffle her hair. The action reminds Rukia of Kaien, and she frowns, shoulders falling. An empty feeling opens up in her chest.

“It’s just a story, sweetie. I don’t know why he would put blackbirds in a pie.”

The girl seems unsatisfied. She pouts and takes the man’s larger hand in hers, tiny fingers clutching his.

“But that makes no sense. Wouldn’t the birds taste bad? Have you ever had a pie with birds in it?”

He shakes his head, taking both her hands and kissing her forehead. “No, Michiko, I haven’t. I don’t think a bird would taste good in a pie either. Do you want me to read another story? This one was your mother’s favorite, it’s called _An Apple A Day.”_

The girl lets go of his hand and sticks her finger in her mouth. “No,” she says over it, drool dribbling down her chin, “I want to go play on the swings. Watch how high I can go!”

Rukia and the man watch as the little girl runs to the swings, hopping on one and kicking her legs to move. She watches this a moment more, before flash-stepping away. All through the day, she ponders on the meaning of the poem, and makes a special note of it in her reports.

She considers asking Byakuya what he thinks of the poem – but quickly dismisses the idea. He would probably tell her the meaning is unimportant, and she was disobeying orders by becoming so distracted. Rukia admits that Kaien was only wrong about one thing: She will never understand Byakuya Kuchiki.

 ____________________________________________

During her second mission to the Living World, Rukia is re-introduced to human poetry.

She sits on Ichigo’s bed, legs crossed. The boy sits across from her at his desk, a book open in his hands. It’s thick and frayed at the edges, the binding wearing off, as if he’s opened it many times. She laughs quietly as he dons a pair of small reading glasses.

“Ichigo, I hate to burst your bubble, but those glasses look horrible on you.”

His brown eyes lift to glare at her through the glass. “Did I ask for your opinion, squirt?”

Rukia shrugs and picks at her borrowed pajamas. “No, but I thought I’d let you know before you went out in public like that. No girl would be attracted to you in those.”

Ichigo makes a face. “Do you want to hear this, or not?”

Rukia straightens and nods, attentively. She can see a flush along his cheeks, but doesn’t comment. Ichigo clears his throat and begins to speak, softly.

_“When to the session of sweet silent thought_

_I summon up remembrance of things past,_

_I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,_

_And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste–“_

“Wait, Ichigo. What?”

Ichigo’s head snaps up and he glares at her, angrily. “Why did you stop me? I was getting to the good parts!”

Rukia cocks her head, chin in hand. “I stopped you because it was confusing. I didn’t understand a thing the poem was saying.”

Ichigo makes a frustrated noise and shoves the book in her face. He points to the author’s name with one finger.

“You see this? This is _Shakespeare._ Don’t tell me you Shinigami don’t know who he is!”

Rukia makes a show of concentrating; eyes scrunched, rubbing her chin. Then, she shrugs and shakes her head.

Ichigo stares at her for a moment. “Wait, seriously? As old as some of you can live – you haven’t heard of Shakespeare? Surely _someone_ there has heard of him.”

Rukia shakes her head again.

Ichigo closes the book and sets it, carefully, back on his desk. He leans toward her with determination, close enough that she can see every fleck of auburn in his eyes.

“William Shakespeare was a poet and a playwright who was born in 1564 in a country called England. Even now, he’s considered one of the greatest – if not _the_ greatest – writer of English poetry and plays in the world. His works are still being preformed and read to this day. Romeo and Juliet? Othello? Hamlet? Please, Rukia, tell me you’ve heard of _one_ of his plays!”

The girl tilts her chin and squints again. After a moment, she shakes her head.

“Sorry, Ichigo. None of those names sound familiar. He does sound pretty famous, though. Who knows, maybe his spirit body is wandering around the Seireitei somewhere,” she giggles at this, clutching her sides. Ichigo doesn’t comment. Slowly, he leans back and turns the chair toward his desk, silent.

Rukia stops laughing, brows lowering in concern. “Hey, I didn’t mean to offend you. It was a joke. I’m sure at least _one_ person in the Seireitei has heard of him. Maybe I can even find a book of his that explains that poem to me, huh?”

When he doesn’t answer, Rukia reaches toward him, slowly. Her fingers hover over his shoulder, trembling.

She nearly screams when he jerks to face her, making a silly face. “I was just joking, Rukia!”

Rukia bites her lips to keep quiet, kicking him in the jaw. “You idiot! I was worried for minute there, don’t do that again!”

Ichigo’s laughter is soft and full of feeling. Soon, Rukia laughs, too.

 _____________________________________________

Months later, Rukia still remembers the sound of Ichigo’s laughter.

She marches, head up, to the Sokyoku. Though the light stings her eyes and the rocks beneath her feet hurt, she keeps the sound of Ichigo’s laughter in her mind. Sometimes, his face and Kaien’s blur together when  she’s asleep. But now, it’s only Ichigo she can think of. When Yamamoto asks if she has any last request, she prays that he’ll go through with letting Ichigo and the others go.

When she’s lifted into the air, high above the ground, the people below her no more than specs, Rukia smiles. In her head, she thanks every single one of them, even her cold, distant brother. The calmness of his demeanor has soothed her. Although she still doesn’t understand him, she can thank him for that, in the very least.

The great, flaming bird is the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. Rukia’s violet eyes widen, staring ahead. The heat of the fire burns her cheeks. It rears back, crying out, the sound high and piercing, and Rukia prepares herself for the inevitable, eyes closed.

She waits. And waits. Rukia swallows before opening her eyes.

Before her, Ichigo floats, carelessly, the blade of his Zanpakuto blocking the great bird. For a moment, she thinks she’s gone insane, but it truly is Ichigo, with his bright hair and dark eyes. On his mouth is a cocky smirk.

Rukia opens her mouth to speak, once, twice. When she manages to get the words out, they’re louder and more forceful than she’d wanted. She calls him a fool and orders him to go back. After they scream some more, the bird lunges at them again.

Ichigo destroys it, effortlessly.

She doesn’t have time to gawk. He lifts her by the waist, and Renji looks down, baffled, from the ground. Before she can protest, Ichigo hurls her toward Renji, screaming, and she lands on him with a loud thud. The rest of the events are blurry and jumbled. As Renji carries her in his arms, Rukia huddles close, hearing his heartbeat thunder against her ear.

When he refuses to let her go even as Aizen threatens to kill him, Rukia can hear his heartbeat grow louder, even louder than her screams. Then, she can only watch, helpless and stunned, as Aizen takes him down in a bloody arc. He does the same to Ichigo, his body falling lifelessly to the dirt.

Then, Aizen speaks, but she can only make out a few horrible words. She feels herself grow cold at the revelation of his plans, which had ended or altered the lives of so many Rukia herself had treasured.

She doesn’t feel anything as he reaches inside her to pull out the Hogyoku. Even after he’s retrieved it, Aizen holds her by one arm, her body limp.

Rukia watches as Gin’s blade soars toward her.

 ___________________________________________________

Rukia was completely, horribly wrong about Byakuya Kuchiki.

_His wife was my sister. He loved her enough to go against the law. He adopted me, even though it was forbidden. Two laws broken, for the sake of love. Why didn’t he tell me this sooner?_

She grips Byakuya’s hands until her knuckles turn white. The sunset makes his dark, soft eyes glow. His face is pale and sweat gathers on his forehead. Blood, fresh and dry, mars his entire front, across his chest and down his uniform.

Rukia has never heard his voice so kind and soft until he asks for her forgiveness. For the first time since her adoption, they look each other in the eye. His skin is warm against hers, and she feels him grip her small hands in his when she nods, slowly.

Though this man had been cold and distant to her since the day she arrived – Byakuya Kuchiki was never cruel. Whatever request she had, however insignificant, was fulfilled in an instant. She was given fine clothing and warm meals, a soft bed to rest in. She now understands the reason for his distance, and was right the first time; he was a man still in mourning.

She was wrong about him; before her is a passionate, but profoundly conflicted man, unsure of how to present himself to those around him. He had loved once, like her. He had also lost that love, like her. Life had dealt them both unfair and tragic hands, but only now had it decided to bring them truly together.

Rukia holds his hand until Unohana stops the bleeding. After he’s taken to the Fourth Division for further treatment, she vows to begin building the bridge of their sibling-hood anew.

 __________________________________________

Outside the room to Hisana’s shrine, Rukia takes a deep breath.

Her palms sweat as she grips the papers in her hands. She opens the doors slowly, daylight spilling into the room. She’s never seen it in detail before; as expected, it’s large and unfurnished, save for the actual shrine set in the center.

Slowly walking inside, Rukia breathes in the air, still heavy with the scent of incense.

She opens the shrine doors and kneels before the photograph. From within the frame, her sister smiles back at her. They’re nearly exactly alike. Hisana’s face is sadder, and her cheeks are thinner, but her smile is soft and ladylike. Although she never knew Hisana, Rukia can see by her photograph why a man like Byakuya Kuchiki would fall so deeply in love with her.

Rukia bows before placing an offering of fruit into the bowl set before the picture. Looking behind her to be sure no one is looking, she turns back to the picture and lifts the papers before her.

“Um. Hello, Hisana. I don’t really know what to say. I never knew you, but I wish I had, even if you didn’t. I hope you aren’t offended or upset by me being here. I thought it was appropriate after everything that’s happened. You were married to a good man, elder sister.”

She shuffles the papers, looking for a particular paragraph. They’re her old reports from the Living World. Once she finds what she’s looking for, Rukia looks up again. Birds sing in the trees outside. Otherwise, everything is quiet.

“I heard this poem while on a mission in the Living World. To be honest, I still don’t understand it. It makes no sense. I mean, putting birds in pies? What strange poems humans have. But I thought that maybe you would enjoy it, despite its strangeness.”

Rukia breaths in, and begins.

Re-reading it now, she still doesn’t understand its true meaning. Even with all that’s happened since then, very little of it makes sense to her. But she can pick out and relate certain sentences to her life and what’s happened, interpret the symbols in ways she couldn’t before. The full meaning, however, is still elusive.

When she’s finished, the room is still quiet. Her sister’s photograph remains smiling. Rukia smiles back.

From behind her, someone speaks, and she nearly leaps into the air.

Rukia turns to see Byakuya standing in the doorway, arms folded into the sleeves of his uniform. Sputtering, she bows and apologizes for invading his privacy, when she should have asked his permission first.

He grunts softly and raises one hand, palm up. “There is no need to apologize, Rukia. She was my wife, but she was also your sister. You may come here whenever you like.”

The girl nods, silent. Suddenly, she fears he had heard her recite the poem, and tries to hide the papers in her sleeves. He doesn’t laugh, but the sound Byakuya makes is close enough, and it makes Rukia look up, eyes wide.

“I came by just as you began reading that poem. It’s certainly strange, isn’t it?”

Rukia looks away and nods. Although she was wrong about many things concerning him, she’s certain that he’ll scold her for shirking on her duties to listen to a silly human poem. The room is silent for a moment before he speaks, quietly.

“Would you like to know the meaning? I have a collection of other human poems if you would like to read them.”

When she looks up, their eyes meet, but not on accident. His dark gaze is gentle, if somewhat hesitant. They still don’t quite know how to be a brother and sister yet. But they’re trying.

Rukia gets to her feet, looking at him for a moment before turning her gaze to the papers. “Yes, elder brother. I would like to know the meaning, if you can help me decipher it,” quietly, she adds, “I never knew you liked poetry.”

He moves aside and opens the doors for her. The sunlight illuminates Byakuya’s pale face and shines in his dark hair. They walk side by side down the patio, toward the library, the sun shining.

“I never knew you liked it either, Rukia. I’d like to know more about you someday, if you’ll allow me to.”

A warm feeling blooms in her chest, like the first day of spring after winter. Rukia clutches the papers closer to her, eyelashes lowering.

“Of course, brother. I would like to know more about you, too.”

 __________________________________________________

Sometime after, while the rest of the Gotei 13 are preparing for the upcoming war, Rukia returns to the Living World.

Ichigo is in his room, bent over a book. She comes through the window, unannounced, her black robes fluttering. When he looks up, he isn’t surprised. Ichigo pushes from the desk and props one elbow on the back of the chair in a casual way.

“’Sup.”

Rukia grins, rolling her eyes. “That’s a terrible way to greet a friend, you know. What does it even _mean?_ ”

Ichigo purses his lips, looking to the side. He shrugs, running a hand through his ginger hair. “Dunno, actually. What brings you here? Aren’t you supposed to be with your squad preparing for this war? Heard it’s pretty, you know, important.”

Rukia sits on his bed, legs folded. Her face becomes serious. “Actually, I came here to talk to you about something.”

Ichigo leans in a little, quirking one orange eyebrow. “Oh?”

She nods solemnly. Slowly, Rukia reaches into her robes, his eyes following her every movement. From within them, she pulls out a small book. She sees his eyebrow rise even farther as she shows him the title.

“The complete sonnets of William Shakespeare? Where did you get that?”

Ichigo gapes. Rukia gloats, flipping the book open. “My brother actually had it in the library. Apparently, there _was_ at least one person in the Seireitei who knew of Shakespeare. You can thank him later.”

The boy scoffs, jerking his head. “Like hell. What were you doing getting it from him? I thought you didn’t understand any of it.”

Outside, the wind blows through the open window. It brushes strands of her dark hair about her face, much like Kaien was fond to do after training.

After she finds the page she’s looking for, Rukia smiles up at him. It’s soft and open, her dark eyes shining in the sunlight.

“Do you remember that poem you tried to read to me when I first came here? I found it.”

He nods, brown eyes soft.

Rukia flushes slightly and looks down to the page.

“I think I understand it now, Ichigo. It was about friendship."


End file.
